Beer: Greene King Band of Brothers 4.1%
Aged Market Hill boozer, currently under bored (though not negligent) GK stewardship. Aesthetically it's fine, although the early evening clientele seem a little lairy… but that’s probably any town centre pub that one’s reasonably unfamiliar with.
It’s a big pub. I sit at a table near the entrance. It’s sticky.
The beer is a passable GK stab at a pale’n’hoppy IPA. It’s OK… I’m ill-convinced (of the style, and the brewer).
Two mature fellows enter the pub. I catch a solitary line of conversation “it’s a f*ckin’ waste of time innit?” He may have a point. I don’t fancy another pint of BOB. I’m considering The Castle or The Red Lion – but going home seems more appealing.
A sandwich board outside advertises the fact that the pub will shortly be screening the Royal Wedding and the FA Cup Final on the same day (Saturday 19/518). Past that, on the seating under the Rotary Club clock, what looks like a homeless old boy (and/or a p*ssed old b*stard) is getting hassled by a couple of coppers. It’s grim street theatre; folk from the pub congregate around the doorway to get a better look while they have a fag. I take pictures through the window of the scene juxtaposed against the Royal Wedding ad.
Market Hill evenings have something of a quietly sinister edge. It’s like Hogarth’s Gin Lane in Luton sometimes… it’s probably not quite that bad at the moment (though it certainly isn’t Beer Street convivial).
Aged Market Hill boozer, currently under bored (though not negligent) GK stewardship. Aesthetically it's fine, although the early evening clientele seem a little lairy… but that’s probably any town centre pub that one’s reasonably unfamiliar with.
It’s a big pub. I sit at a table near the entrance. It’s sticky.
The beer is a passable GK stab at a pale’n’hoppy IPA. It’s OK… I’m ill-convinced (of the style, and the brewer).
Two mature fellows enter the pub. I catch a solitary line of conversation “it’s a f*ckin’ waste of time innit?” He may have a point. I don’t fancy another pint of BOB. I’m considering The Castle or The Red Lion – but going home seems more appealing.A sandwich board outside advertises the fact that the pub will shortly be screening the Royal Wedding and the FA Cup Final on the same day (Saturday 19/518). Past that, on the seating under the Rotary Club clock, what looks like a homeless old boy (and/or a p*ssed old b*stard) is getting hassled by a couple of coppers. It’s grim street theatre; folk from the pub congregate around the doorway to get a better look while they have a fag. I take pictures through the window of the scene juxtaposed against the Royal Wedding ad.
Market Hill evenings have something of a quietly sinister edge. It’s like Hogarth’s Gin Lane in Luton sometimes… it’s probably not quite that bad at the moment (though it certainly isn’t Beer Street convivial).
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